


Blue Moon

by Frappexo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: And I'm not ashamed of it, Angst, I guess this is angst, I like to make Hunlay cry, Idk if it is tho, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:26:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frappexo/pseuds/Frappexo
Summary: Zhang Yixing has the money, the power, the status, the happiness. But life’s not always fair and now he has to face his responsibilities as the only heir of the Zhang legacy.He can’t get away from it. He’s 27 and he’s not getting any younger. He needs to settle down, even if he doesn’t want to—even if that means he has to give up his happiness.But he can always dream, and fortunately, Sehun is always willing to dream with him.





	Blue Moon

**Author's Note:**

>   
> Idk what's going on here but enjoy! :)  
>   
>   
> The song for this story is:
> 
> **“Blue Moon”** by **Santo & Johnny**
> 
> You can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/frappexo/playlist/2yB6x1MZxY6RwEth58qFAf) .  
> 
> 
>  
> 
>   
> •*.¸¸.•*✦*•.¸¸.*•
> 
>  
> 
>   
> **DISCLAIMER**  
>   
>  I do not own anything that is not the story itself. I am not affiliated with EXO or SM Entertainment, and I take no responsibility for the misuse and/or misinterpretation of the content posted here.
> 
> Any similarity that this fanfiction and/or the character(s) may have with another fanfiction or real-life events, is mere coincidence.  
>   
>  **English is not my first language.**  
> 

 

Feeling anxious at 7 in the morning shouldn’t be allowed. Yixing almost beat himself for feeling that way. Anxiety wasn’t meant to be part of his feelings. In fact, he was meant to avoid feelings and emotions whatsoever.

He was born heir to one of the most important families in China. He had been raised to keep himself at bay and not give away what was going inside his head. He had a reputation to maintain; a family’s name to take care of—yet it didn’t stop him from feeling anxious at the moment.

He had grown up knowing his duties; his responsibilities. Knowing what was expected from him. And making sure his surname wouldn’t die with him was part of it.

He had got away with it for 27 years, and he had thought he would be able to keep it at least until he was 30. He was young. He had a long life ahead. He could look for that obligatory stability later, when his youth began to vanish. His parents, however, didn’t share his train of thoughts, and they had been clear about it.

Their conditions were irrefutable. She— _of course it had to be a she_ —must be from a well-known and respectable family. There was no way he would mix his blood with some unworthy woman. And unless he wanted them to take the matter into their own hands, he had maximum a year to do it himself.

_“Search and select, Yixing. Then let us know your decision to make the pertinent arrangements.”_

He had been sitting at his father’s office back then, trying to stay composed, just as he had been taught. Hundreds of thoughts had crossed his mind, but he hadn’t let them out. He had restricted himself to nod and pretend he was accepting every single requirement.

Yixing had delayed it as long as it was possible. He knew his life was a book and his parents were the authors, but he had wanted to enjoy his freedom as much as he could. Some things were unavoidable, though, and he had run out of time. That was why he was sitting at his father’s office again, waiting for the final blow to come.

“So, Yixing,” his father said after the required pleasantries were exchanged. “Do you remember the task your mother and I had assigned to you a year ago?”

Yixing almost rolled his eyes. Why did he have to talk as if they had asked him to do the dishes or take out the trash? Not that they had ever asked him to do those things, but it shouldn’t sound very different, he guessed.

“Yes, father. I do remember.”

“And could you please tell me what your results were?”

There was where the anxiety was coming from. He wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted because there were no results. He wasn’t going to tell him he hadn’t even tried to _‘search and select’_ because he was in the least interested in expanding the Zhang legacy. He didn’t need to find someone to spend the rest of his life with, because it had been years since he had found that person—but he wasn’t going to tell him that, either.

“Unfortunately, I have no results, father. I did not find anyone.”

The way his father hummed in response unsettled him. It was as though he had known that would be his answer, and Yixing didn’t know whether he should be offended or not.

“Very well, then,” the man said. “Your mother and I had expected you to act on your own, but of course we still had to take our own measures. We have already discussed this with Mr. and Mrs. Song and they accepted a marriage between you and their daughter, Qian. She is a respectable lady, with values and a good reputation, and your mother likes her.”

Hearing this didn’t surprise Yixing. The Song family was the most influential in Shandong and this would definitely expand his family’s influence to that side of the country. There was no doubt why they had chosen her.

As for him, Yixing didn’t have an opinion about her. He had barely interacted with her, so there was no point in trying to take a shot about how being married with her would be. If he ignored the fact that she was older than him—therefore would expect more from him—and that she was… well, _a girl,_ maybe he would be able to come to terms with it. Eventually.

“She was the best candidate out there,” his father continued, taking the newspaper on his desk. “We have already signed the contract and we are expecting to get a splendid outcome from this.”

Fucking life, there was a contract.

Knowing his parents, this meant they had already booked a date and it was just a matter of time before the congratulatory messages began to arrive. The countdown to the end of his freedom had begun and he hadn’t even known when that had exactly happened.

It wasn’t as if it mattered, anyway. He knew how his world worked. How everything was about reputation, status, money and power. Marriages existed because of that. In his world, there was no place for banal things like human feelings or wishes. You did what you were supposed to do without questioning it. Then hoped to live long enough to see the result in the form of a large number of zeros in your bank account. Happiness be damned.

“The engagement party will be next month; one week after our bimestrial meeting. This way, even the international committee will know and celebrate this great news with us.”

His father didn’t look away from his newspaper, so he didn’t see the way Yixing winced. Reading was apparently more interesting than talking about his son’s future. He mentioned other things about a suit, decorations and music; about talking to his mother about that stuff and meeting Qian. But Yixing didn’t listen. His focus was on the international committee. Was it really necessary to have them at the party? He didn’t want them there. There was no way he would be able to throw all that circus if they were present.

“Are you listening, Yixing?”

“Yes, father.”

“Good.” The man waved his hand dismissively. “That is it for now, then. You can leave, son.”

“Thank you.” Yixing stood up and bowed. “If you will excuse me.”

He straightened his jacket and walked out the office. Once far away from that room, he took out his phone and sent a text. He didn’t even bother to reply the good morning messages. It wasn’t important anymore.

 

**Yixing //   07:21 a.m.**

_They did it_

 

It was simple.

It was short.

There was no need to explain it any further.

He would get it.

What was going to happen now was beyond him, but he didn’t want to think about it. There was no point, anyway.

 

**Yixing //   07:21 a.m.**

_You’ve got the honor to be the first person I invite to my engagement party next month_

 

 

There was a part of Yixing that wanted to walk into that conference room and get it over with, but there was another part of him—a significant one—that wanted to puke and run away.

He was pacing around in the toilet, neglecting his responsibilities. He was supposed to have walked inside those doors about ten minutes ago, but he didn’t care. He had to put his shit together first.

Being there would make it all official, and even though he had had a month to prepare himself, he still wasn’t ready. Letting all those men know about his engagement was a mere formality, but still. It was too much to handle at once.

A knock on the door startled him.

_“Young Yixing? Is everything alright?”_

Yixing stared at his reflection in the mirror and breathed in. He ran his fingers through his disheveled fringe, trying to make it look decent.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Yang,” he said, smiling slightly when he opened the door. “Everything’s fine.”

His father’s assistant looked particularly unconvinced, but she nodded, nonetheless. “Everyone’s already at the conference room. They’re just waiting for you.”

Yixing smiled once again and gently placed a hand on her arm as he passed her. “Thank you, Mrs. Yang.”

As he walked to the conference room, he told himself he had nothing to worry about. The plan was not to look at anyone once he entered, and if he followed it, he would be just fine—he _had_ to be fine. There was no time to freak out now. That wouldn’t change anything, so he might as well face it and move on.

When he reached the door, he paused for a moment, trying to collect himself a bit more. He held the doorknob, took two deep breaths, walked in and _goddammit_.

Fuck his plan.

Because he was weak. He was scared. He was stressed. And he needed to hold onto the only real thing he had in that room.

Yixing scanned the place and when his eyes landed on his target, his heart pounded against his ribcage like a madman. He was greeted by an almost imperceptible smirk and a mocking shake of the head, so subtle that hadn’t he been looking, would’ve it gone unnoticed.

“Where have you been, Yixing? Please come sit down.”

“Sorry for the delay, father,” he said, walking toward his seat, at his father’s right. “Gentlemen.”

He bowed and avoided looking anywhere other than the desk. He couldn’t afford such a thing. Not again. He had to follow his plan. Because a single look and he would end up reaching him and sitting on his lap and kissing the life out of him, and burying himself in his arms and asking him to never let him go, and that wasn’t a good idea.

That was why feelings weren’t allowed, now he understood.

“Dear gentlemen,” his father started, bringing him back to Earth. Yixing reluctantly looked at him. “Before we proceed with our meeting, I have something to communicate to you. My son here”—he placed a hand on Yixing’s shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze—“is finally getting married.”

Yixing forced a smile on his face as everyone congratulated him.

He drifted his eyes back to his right and almost flinched when they connected with Sehun’s. He stared at him and there was no longer any sign of a smirk or mischief. The emotionless mask had gone back to its place.

Sehun nodded once, as a sign of congratulatory message and Yixing snorted. He dissimulated it with a cough.

“Who is the fortunate woman, Zhang?” Mr. Huang asked.

“A good woman, that is for sure,” Yixing’s father said. “We are joining ventures with the Songs. Their daughter, Qian, will be the one to give me good, strong grandchildren. Just as every Zhang should be.”

Yixing was looking at Sehun again, so he didn’t miss the way he raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise. As if he hadn’t got that information from Yixing himself a month ago.

Sehun surely felt his stare because he stared back and pursed his mouth in a way that Yixing could almost assure meant, _‘Yeah, she’s a good one. I approve her.’_

“You are all invited to their engagement party next week at our house. This is an important event for our family, and it will be our pleasure to have you all with us.” The man patted Yixing’s shoulder and then let go. He was proud. Yixing not so much. “I will have my assistant send you the invitations. Now let us start with our meeting, shall we?”

Without further ado, the conversation changed and everyone got to speak about taxes, production lines and marketing; about the development in the Chinese, Korean, Japanese and Thai plants. And just like that, his engagement was left behind.

Yixing let himself relax, then. He put his blank face again and fell into his so-used meetings routine—where he would pay attention to the Zhang’s Co. status and once in a while would drift his eyes to Sehun. Where Sehun would look at him as well, knowing smiles would be exchanged, and dissimulated stare contests would be held. Where the pressure of continuing their families’ legacy would be completely forgotten for a moment. Because every time they would look at each other, the world would fade away and it would be just the two of them against everybody else.

 

 

“Yixing, hurry up, dear.”

Jogging all his way down the hall, Yixing reached his mother and smiled softly at her.

“Sorry, I was checking a report.”

The woman shook her head but there was a ghost of a smile. “It’s a Zhang thing to be always so attached to their jobs, I see.”

She helped him pick the nonexistent fluff off his jacket suit and arranged his tie. Yixing knew it was an act of nervousness and he almost felt sorry for her.

The engagement parties they were so used to had always been an important issue. They had to be perfect, lest you wanted society to judge and speak negatively about you. Damaging your reputation; dirtying your name— _no_. Not _your_ name, but your family’s name. The way the night would end would confirm—or discredit—the amount of power that the families of the engaged couple had, and by no means did they want to damage the Zhang surname—or even the Song one. Maybe. Yixing wasn’t sure.

Of course his mother was nervous, but if he was honest, he didn’t give a damn. He just wanted the night to end so he could go back to his apartment and maybe hope to find Sehun there.

“All our guests are already in the garden. Qian is waiting for you in the living room.” She cupped Yixing’s face with one hand and looked at him with watery eyes. “Whenever you’re ready, dear.”

Yixing tried to smile, but he was sure it had come out more like a grimace. His mother didn’t say anything about it, though. She returned the smile and leaned over to hug him.

At that moment, he wanted to tell her everything that was bugging his mind. To talk about his fears, his insecurities. About the things he liked and the ones he hated. He wanted to confess that he didn’t want to marry Qian and explain why. Let her know that he was already happy and that what they were doing would only ruin his life.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t do that to her.

So he simply hugged her back and placed a soft kiss on her temples.

Once his mother let go, she told him she would wait outside and hurried him toward the living room.

There he found Qian. She was wearing that lace dress off-the-shoulder she had bought two weeks ago, at one of their ‘get to know each other’ meetings. She had asked for his opinion and he had said that she would look gorgeous in it—and he hadn't been wrong. She looked pretty. She _was_ pretty. It was just a shame that she was nothing close to be Yixing’s type.

“Are you ready?” he asked once Qian was next to him.

“I’m nervous,” she said. “We’re finally doing this. I can’t believe it.”

The first time they met, Qian had confessed that she was excited for their wedding and that she really hoped they could make it work. She had assured him that he had nothing to worry about, because they would be an exceptionally perfect couple and that by itself was enough reason to feel better about the speed at which they were going—Yixing didn't agree but he let her be.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but he had also heard her telling her best friend on the phone that she had found him _‘painfully handsome’_ and that it was like a dream to be the first of their group of friends to marry _‘a perfect god’_ —he had made sure to cringe at that. And he repeated it later that night every time Sehun called him like that on the phone. That, after having laughed at him for 10 damn minutes.

Yixing could already hear in the distance the clattering of glasses, the soft murmur of people’s voices, and the elegant music that the quartet was playing.

He let a silent breath escape his mouth and smiled, offering his arm. “Good to know I’m not the only one.”

They made their way toward the garden in silence. With each step, the noises out there grew louder, and the anxiety boiled harder inside him.

The door to the garden was already open, so once they were in full view for everyone, the loud claps rumbled in Yixing’s ears. The garden was decorated with lights hanging on the bushes and trees. It was as if thousands of lightning bugs were dancing around. It looked beautiful, Yixing had to admit. But the aesthetics of the place didn’t soothe him.

He helped Qian down the stairs and walked to the back of the garden, where their parents were. He hugged his and Qian’s mother. He shook hands with his and Qian’s father. He faced the guests and automatically scanned the garden, trying to find the most perfect poker face he had seen in his life.

He didn’t find it.

He hadn’t talked to Sehun for three days. With his mother pestering about the decorations for the party, Qian asking about the food, the music, the photographers and the list of guests, and his own issues with the company, he had barely had enough time to breathe and keep himself alive—thus the lack of communication. But they were fine. They hadn't fought. They weren't going through some love quarrel or whatever.

They were fine.

They had to be fine.

Yeah… They were fine.

A slight worry settled on his chest, but before letting it grow any bigger, Yixing reminded himself that it was Sehun whom he was thinking about. Sehun knew how much it meant for him to have him there. He wouldn’t leave him alone. Not in this. He had promised he would be there with him and for him. So Yixing was sure Sehun was there.

His father began to speak and Yixing smiled—his cheeks hurt, so he was probably smiling. He heard something about prestige and power; about traditions and strong bloodlines. But he wasn’t really paying attention. He was busier in trying not to freak out.

Yet he _was_ freaking out. He had to get out of there.

Qian tugged his arm a little.

“Are you alright?” she whispered, offering a faint smile.

Yixing nodded, not being able to find his words.

Qian grinned then and reached for his hand.

Yixing’s automatic response was to withdraw his hand, but he immediately composed himself and reached her hand back, letting her intertwine their fingers.

It only made it worse, though. His instinct was screaming at him to let go. It felt weird. It felt wrong. That wasn’t the hand he was supposed to hold. This hand was smaller and more delicate, and lacked long, slender fingers playing with his, holding him in a firm grip.

He seriously had to get out of there.

He stopped searching among the guests and fixed his eyes on the night sky. He found the moon staring back at him. She was huge; more than what he remembered ever seeing her. She was also blue. Kinda. She had a halo of blue light around; so bright that made her look like she was blue. Yixing had once read that some particles and dust in the atmosphere were the cause of this blue-ish tint on the moon.

At this moment Yixing didn't believe that. It felt more like the moon was sad. Blue was perceived as the color of sadness according to popular culture, so it had to be it. The moon was sad.

At some point Qian’s father started talking. Yixing paid no attention either. He just focused on his breathing and the anxiety that burned his chest. He wanted the man to speak faster so he could flee from there.

Deep down Yixing felt ashamed of himself. He had been raised to be better than this, but he couldn’t help it. He had prepared himself to face this whole thing with Sehun being there, in the crowd, looking after him in the distance. But Sehun wasn’t there, and Yixing only wanted to run away to find him wherever he was hiding.

It could've been minutes, or maybe hours, but he realized that the speeches had ended only until Qian released his hand to clap. Then everyone went back to their own businesses and people began to surround him and Qian. They came to greet and congratulate them personally and Yixing tried to be polite. He smiled and thanked them and answered all their questions. It was part of the routine. He was familiar with it and he would dare to say he was good at it.

So good that nobody noticed whenever he tuned out the conversation to look for Sehun.

He counted the times he had done it—thirteen. He had done it thirteen times before he finally saw that familiar figure coming down the stairs; holding a glass of champagne with one hand and the other casually shoved in the pocket of his pants.

The blue moonlight combined with the warm light from the garden shadowed Sehun's features in such a way that Yixing felt the urge to run and kiss him right there.

He would've, but he didn't.

He just stared at him until Sehun's eyes found him.

Sehun stopped short in the middle of the stairs and gave Yixing a long stare before raising his glass of champagne in salute.

"Yixing," Qian said, making him look away from Sehun.

"Sorry." He smiled at her and turned his attention back to his conversation with the Wangs. "I got distracted. Would you mind repeating what you were saying, please?”

Mrs. Wang laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. "So charming, Yixing."

Yixing beamed at the woman and brought his glass to his mouth.

"I was asking Qian here about when you plan to have children."

Yixing choked on his champagne in such an uncivilized way he was sure his grandmother was glaring at him from the great beyond.

"Oh, Sophia. They haven't even got married. Leave them alone," Mr. Wang said.

"But they are going to have such lovely kids. I needed to ask." Mrs. Wang smiled so sweetly at them that Yixing almost choked again.

He had wanted to get out of there? Well, this was the perfect moment to do it. And that's what he did.

"We have not talked about it yet, Mrs. Wang, but it is kind of you to ask," Yixing said and then drowned the rest of his champagne. "Now if you excuse me. I have something to attend to."

He bowed to the couple and put a hand on Qian's shoulder.

"I'll be back," he told her and then, _finally_ , walked away.

He heard Mr. Wang saying something like, _“You scared him, Sophia”_ , but he didn’t stay enough to confirm it.

Yixing waved and bowed whenever someone spoke to him, but he never stopped to have a talk.

He had lost Sehun from sight once more and he cursed his bad luck. He couldn’t stay to spot him down there, among the guests. This was his only chance to escape and he wouldn’t waste it. Fortunately, he managed to get to the library without problems.

The place was alone and Yixing let the silence engulf him. He walked toward his grandfather’s record player; the one he had given him. When he was 5, his grandfather had complained about not being able to repeat the same song over and over again without having to go through the whole record. Yixing had wanted to help. So he had asked his parents to help him buy one instead of giving him a new car toy for his birthday. He would never forget his grandfather’s face when he had delivered the gift. That had been one of the times Yixing had managed to feel that he was doing things right.

Yixing looked up and found the same old shelf full of vinyl records. He ran his fingers through the sleeves, smiling at the memories they brought him.

He wanted to be 5 again.

He took one of the records out from its place, and _Santo & Johnny_ greeted him. He had never known who was who, but Santo & Johnny were one of his grandfather’s favorites. He had always liked how happy they looked in the picture of the sleeve. As if playing their music were enough to make them feel like that.

Turning on the record player, he carefully placed the needle in the fourth groove and _‘Blue Moon’_ started playing on loop—again, one of his grandfather’s favorites and a constant in Yixing’s childhood. He let the music flow the library and immediately felt how the weight of everything that was happening slowly began to leave his shoulders.

Short after, the soft sound of the door closing behind him reached his ears and Yixing took a deep breath.

“When I was a kid,” he said without looking away from the spinning record, “Whenever I was upset, my grandfather used to drag me here and play his records for me. I always found his music boring.”

“That explains why you’re hiding here, listening to your grandfather's boring music.”

Yixing smiled and turned around. “As boring as it was, it did always calm me.”

Sehun was casually leaning on the door, with his hands inside his pockets. The library was dark. The only light was that of the moon coming through the window. It reached to the door, lightly illuminating Sehun’s face. He was wearing a black suit that clung to his body, letting the fabric trace each muscle that Yixing had spent years memorizing.

He looked gorgeous. Ethereal. Perfect.

He never failed to take Yixing’s breath away.

“That’s what you do when you’re upset?” Sehun asked.

“That’s what I used to do. Now I just call you.”

Sehun threw him a sad smile and Yixing's stomach churned.

"Where have you been?" Yixing lowly mumbled, walking toward Sehun.

"I was also hiding, but in your kitchen. I didn't want to witness all that."

Yixing felt a pang in his chest and a shaky breath escaped from his mouth. "I'm sorry."

Sehun’s stare was so intense that it caused Yixing to stop in the middle of the library.

When Sehun had waltzed into his life as the super young representative of the plant in Seoul, Yixing hadn’t liked being the focus of attention of that stare. It had made him feel vulnerable; as though Sehun could see from across the walls he had carefully built since he was a kid. It was something that nobody had ever managed to do and Yixing had hated him for that. But then Sehun had dared not only to see through his walls, but to destroy them. He left a rest of rubble that he didn’t hesitate to clean—leaving Yixing with no option but to fall in love with him.

He still felt vulnerable, but it had been long since he had identified the different meanings behind Sehun’s stare. And now Sehun was looking at him because there was something perturbing his mind. There was something that was dancing around his head that was causing him trouble, and he was deciding whether to deal with it or ignore it. Yixing noticed when he took the decision—Sehun had chosen to ignore it.

“May I have this dance?” Sehun carefully asked, straightening and covering the remaining distance between them.

Yixing sent him a questioning look and Sehun shrugged.

“I can’t dance with you out there.”

They stood there, without saying a word. Yixing noticed that Sehun’s suit wasn’t black but navy blue. It reminded him of the moon. The weird feeling that hadn’t left him for a month settled on his chest again and he reached for Sehun’s hand, trying to see if that would help.

It did.

And holding Sehun’s hand didn’t feel weird. Nor wrong. That was the hand he was supposed to hold.

He pulled Sehun to himself, pressed their chests together and put his free hand on Sehun’s shoulder.

“I guess I may?” Sehun softly smiled, placing his own free hand on Yixing’s waist.

“Yes, you may.”

They began to sway from one side to the other, following the rhythm of the music. ‘Blue Moon’ was still playing. It was soothing, almost nostalgic. Yixing now understood why his grandfather liked it—or at least he wanted to believe that was the reason. The song was meant to help you cope up with whatever was upsetting you. That was what it had done to him ever since he had been a kid, and right now hadn’t been the exception. He was upset, but he was dealing with it. It was all thanks to the song.

Or maybe it was just because of Sehun.

Yixing sighed and buried his face in the crook of Sehun’s neck, closing his eyes and letting himself be carried away by the moment. He placed a soft kiss on Sehun’s jaw and moved his hand to Sehun’s nape, gently caressing his hair. It was shorter than the last time he had seen him, but it was still soft. Yixing loved Sehun’s hair.

Yixing also loved Sehun’s neck and the mole he had there. And his eyebrows. And his perfect nose. And the way he smelled.

He loved the little scar on his cheek and the way his eyes closed whenever he smiled.

God, he loved Sehun’s smile. It was brighter than the sun, the moon and the stars together, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life.

He loved the way Sehun constantly licked his lip. He loved his mouth and the way he sometimes lisped. He loved his ridiculous laughter and how he clapped like a seal. He loved his broad shoulders and his strong back; and his arms and his belly. He loved Sehun’s hands and the way they fit with his own.

He loved Sehun’s thighs and how perfect they looked when Sehun wore jeans. He loved when Sehun wore jeans. And suits; and pants, and shorts. He loved when Sehun didn’t wear anything.

He loved the softness of Sehun’s skin and the way it felt against his own. He loved how Sehun gasped, and moaned, and whined, and panted. How he breathed and the sound of his voice. He loved to hug, and kiss, and bite, and caress him. To feel his pulse and listen to his heartbeat.

He loved to have him in his life. To be able to be part of Sehun’s life. He loved what they had and how it all had started; how it seemed that it would never end. He loved their fights. He loved their ups and their downs. He loved their plans and their dreams.

He loved to dream about their future and he loved that Sehun loved to dream with him.

“Sehun…” he whispered, not wanting to burst the little bubble they were in.

“Hm?”

He loved that Sehun loved him.

He loved to love him.

He loved him.

He loved Sehun.

Yixing loved Sehun.

“Marry me.”

The hand that was on his waist tensed and Yixing kept on languidly caressing Sehun’s nape. That had always calmed him. The music and their breathings were the only sounds in the library and Yixing was content there. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Why do you always ruin everything?" Sehun eventually mumbled, his face now slightly turned to Yixing’s head. “Why don’t you never wait? I was planning on asking you and you beat me to it. Now you have to convince me.”

Yixing snorted and shook his head. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“I’ll ask you some questions and you’ll have to make an outstanding performance so I can decide.”

“I can do that. Shoot them.”

Sehun hummed in thought and a soft 'Ah' escaped his lips when he got his first question.

“Where are we getting married?”

"Hawaii, of course. We love it. It’s just logical for us to marry there."

"But what about our families and friends? About the other people? What if they don’t want to go?"

"Nobody here cares about spending money," Yixing said. "A ticket to Hawaii would be nothing to them. But who cares about them? The only ones that are obligated to be there are you and I. It's okay if the others don't go."

"True…" Sehun started to run his fingers down Yixing's spine, unaware of the goose bumps he was causing all over Yixing's skin. "What about the honeymoon?"

"We could stay there. Or we could go explore Africa, Europe, or the whole word, if you want. I don’t care as long as I’m with you."

"Sap," Sehun mumbled against his hair.

Yixing heard the trace of a smile that made him smile as well. "Shut up."

"What about our home?" Sehun asked. "China or Korea?"

Yixing would never say it out loud because even he knew it was corny as hell, but his answer would never be China or Korea, but Sehun.

Home was wherever Sehun was and Yixing would follow him wherever he went.

"We can have two houses," he said instead. "One here, the other in Seoul."

"But I love Jeju."

"I know. That’s why we’re moving to Jeju when we retire."

Sehun snorted and nodded, nuzzling Yixing's hair with his cheek. "Sounds promising."

"Have I already convinced you?"

"Not yet."

Yixing straightened to look at him, stopping their slow dance. "How many answers do you need?"

Sehun smiled at him, making crescents with his eyes. Yixing's stomach flipped and he felt like a teenager with his crush.

"Patience, Zhang. I’m getting there." Sehun attached Yixing back to him and retook their dance, keeping his eyes on Yixing’s. "Now… What about kids?"

Yixing's eyebrows rose. "What about them?"

"Are we still having five?"

Yixing couldn't stand Sehun's gaze so he buried his face under his chin again. "Of course," he said softly. "We’re not changing that."

"If we adopt babies, how are we going to call them? Five names are a lot of names.”

It wasn’t that Yixing had thought about it, because really, he hadn’t. That was far beyond what he had ever allowed himself to imagine. It was stupid, unnecessary. Even cruel. But deep inside he had always had one name in mind and he desperately wanted to know Sehun’s thoughts on it.

“I would like to call our girl Seyeon.”

Sehun repeated the name, as if testing how it sounded. Yixing smiled against his neck.

“I like it,” Sehun said after a while. “But why Seyeon?”

Yixing scrunched his nose up and almost pretended he hadn’t heard the question. It was embarrassing. It was humiliating. He would never hear the end of it if he confessed. But oh, fuck it. Whatever. He was cheesy and ridiculous. Sehun knew it and there was nothing to do about it.

“Because it starts with ‘se’,” he mumbled against Sehun’s shoulder, hoping Sehun would get the hint—hoping Sehun wouldn’t hear anything, actually.

He didn’t get an immediate reaction, but Yixing felt the moment when the meaning behind his words hit Sehun. The latter held him closer, then—as if that were even possible—and tightened the grip of their hands. He didn’t say anything for a moment. He was processing Yixing’s words, probably, and it was fine. Yixing would stay there forever if needed.

“So…” Sehun’s voice trembled and he cleared his throat a few times. He tried again. “So. There are four more names to go. Have you thought about those, too?” Yixing shook his head and Sehun hummed. “Well, we’re not adopting them all at once, so we’ll figure it out when the time comes. Sounds good?”

“Yeah…” Yixing whispered, suddenly not finding his voice.

They stayed in silence then, following the music. Yixing closed his eyes. He wouldn’t think about anything. He would just stay there, letting Sehun hold him and enjoying whatever he could still have.

It was nice, he thought. To be there with Sehun, pretending not to worry about anything. It was the perfect scenario; what his life would’ve been if they had been born with different surnames. But they hadn’t. They were Zhang Yixing and Oh Sehun and their lives weren’t normal. They had a huge responsibility over their shoulders and there was no way to escape from it—no. Yixing _didn’t_ have a way to escape from it, but Sehun did. He hoped Sehun could be strong enough to do it. He just wanted him to be happy.

He was so lost in his thoughts that when Sehun mumbled, “I do,” he almost missed it. But it had been there and it had been enough for him to feel his chest tightening and his eyes stinging.

He wasn’t ready for this.

He would never be ready for this.

Yixing turned his head away from Sehun’s neck and rested his cheek on his shoulder, instead, facing the window. He could see the moon through it, seeming as blue, lonely and sad as an hour ago.

“Good,” he said, hating how it came out choked. He frowned and pursed his lips.

He wouldn’t cry.

He was a Zhang and he was raised to contain his emotions. There was no room for weakness.

But the emptiness in his chest didn’t let him breathe and he was tired. He needed a break. He wanted to stop pretending that his life wasn’t a mess and that he was okay with everything that was happening. He wanted to tell them all to fuck off and leave him alone.

He would never tell them those things, of course, but he could still let himself be weak for a moment. So he stopped fighting and as if on cue, he felt something running down the bridge of his nose that landed on Sehun’s shoulder, wetting his jacket suit. Luckily it was navy blue; the wet spot would go unnoticed.

Sehun buried his face on Yixing’s hair and placed a kiss there. He pressed Yixing against him, so hard that it seemed he didn’t want to let go.

Yixing didn’t want him to let go.

“I can’t wait to marry you, Xing.”

A smile crept up Yixing’s face and he places his arms around Sehun’s neck, burying his face there yet again; getting drunk on Sehun’s scent.

Feelings weren’t allowed.

Emotions weren’t allowed.

But there wasn’t a rule about dreams, and Yixing would let himself dream as much as he could.

Right now he was where he wanted to be. And even if their future was already written, they would always have this and no one would ever be able to take it away from them.

Yixing placed a kiss under Sehun’s jaw and smiled once again.

“I can’t wait either,” he finally said.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Idek what this is or why it even exists, and even less why I love to make Hunlay cry, but… yeah. If it hurt you even a bit of what it did to me—because I’m a super emotional bean, even when things ain’t sad—I’m sorry aksjaksk but I really hope you liked it!
> 
> Thanks for reading. Have a great day/night! ♥
> 
> P.S.: Crying doesn't mean weakness, and even if it did, it's okay to cry. It's okay to be weak. It's needed. We're humans, after all. :)


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